'Wait!' snapped Glokta, and the man paused at the edge of the circle, peering at him over his mask. The room was growing colder even as they spoke. Unnaturally cold. Something was happening in the centre of the circles. The air was trembling, like the air above a bonfire, more and more as Silber's harsh voice droned on. Glokta stood frozen, his eyes flicking between the old Adepti. What to do? Stop him, or don't stop him? Stop him, or—

'Allow me!' Cosca stepped forwards, delving into his black coat with his spare left hand. But you can't be— He whipped his arm out with a careless flourish and his throwing knife came with it. The blade flashed in the candlelight, spun directly through the shimmering air in the centre of the room, and imbedded itself to the hilt in Silber's forehead with a gentle thud.

'Ha!' Cosca seized Glokta by the shoulder. 'What did I tell you? Have you ever seen a knife thrown better?'

Blood ran down the side of Silber's face in a red trickle. His eyes rolled upwards, flickered, then he sagged sideways, dragging over his lectern, and crashed to the floor. His book tumbled down on top of him, aged pages flapping, the lamp spilled over and sprayed streaks of burning oil across the floor.

'No!' shrieked Sult.

Chayle gasped, his mouth falling open. Kandelau threw his candle aside and sank grovelling to the floor. Denka gave a terrified squeak, one hand over his face, staring out pop-eyed from between his fingers. There was a long pause while everyone except Cosca stared, horrified, towards the corpse of the Adeptus Demonic. Glokta waited, his few teeth bared, his eyes almost squeezed shut. Like that horrible, beautiful moment between stubbing your toe and feeling the hurt. Here it comes. Here it comes.

Here comes the pain…

But nothing came. No demonic laughter echoed through the chamber. The floor did not fall in to expose a gate to hell. The shimmering faded, the room began to grow warmer. Glokta raised his brows, almost disappointed. 'It would seem the diabolical arts are decidedly overrated.'

'No!' snarled Sult again.

'I am afraid so, your Eminence. And to think I used to respect you.' Glokta grinned at the Adeptus Chemical, still clinging weakly to his empty flatbow. He waved a hand at Goyle's body. 'A good shot. I congratulate you. One less mess for me to tidy up.' He waved a finger at the crowd of mercenaries behind him. 'Now seize that man.'

'No!' bellowed Saurizin, throwing his flatbow to the floor. 'None of it was my idea! I had no choice! It was him!' He stabbed a thick finger at Silber's lifeless body. 'And… and him!' He pointed to Sult with a trembling arm.